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THE  FOREST 

AN  IDYLL  OF  THE  WOODS 


BY 
EDWINE  NOYE 


OTTO  ULBRICH  CO. 

BUFFALO,  N.  Y. 

1912 


Copyright,  1912 

BY 

EDWINE  NOYE 


Ube  "fcnfcfeerbocfcer  press,  flew  ISorfc 


•  •   • 

•  •  *  • 

•  •  •  ♦ 


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THE  FOREST 

An  Idyll  of  the  Woods 


Characters 

Sylvan  The  Dryad 

Sylvia  The  Gale 

The  Child  Pan 


M191875 


Scene  i 

A  stormy  summer's  evening  in  the  depths  of  the 
forest.  The  pale  yellow  wash  of  the  sunset 
glimmers  through  the  trees  and  the  wind 
sighs  mournfully  amid  the  murmuring 
needles  of  the  gigantic  pines.  Enter 
Sylvan  dragging  a  load  of  fagots. 

Sylvan 

I  must  be  hastening  on. — The  western  sun 
Has  nearly  sunk  behind  yon  distant  pine, 
And  Sylvia  will  be  harkening  for  my  step, 
And  set  the  flick'ring  taper  toward  the  path. 
This  wind  will  do  much  damage;  I  do  fear 
That  all  the  luscious  purple  fruit  which  swings, 
Near  ripe,  upon  the  plum-tree  by  the  door 
Will  be  destroyed  and  crushed  by  this  mad 
gale, 

5 


6  THE  FOREST  sc.  I 

And  we  shall  lose  the  coppers  which  it  brings. 
Ah,  what  a  wind!     'T  will  blow  the  world 
away! 

He  trips  and  jails. 
Perdition  take  the  storm ! 

Enter  the  Dryad  pursued  by  the  Gale. 

Dryad 

My  sisters!    Aid! 
Lend  me  thy  friendly  branches,  or  the  Gale 
Will  tear  me  from  my  home's  close-sheltering 

bark 
And  toss  me  helpless  in  his  mighty  arms. 
Oh,  why  did  I  desert  my  friendly  leaves? 

Gale  {whispering) 

Beloved,  daughter  of  the  woodlands,  stay! 
I  '11  cherish  thee,  and  shield  thy  lissome  form 
From  all  alarms  of  axe  or  storm  or  flood. 
I  '11  plant  the  loveliest  flowers  about  thy  roots, 
And  gently  sway  thy  branches  all  day  long 
For  but  one  kiss  from  those  red  lips,  my  sweet. 

Dryad  {escaping) 
Away,  away,  rude  follower!    Well  I  know 


sc.  i  THE  FOREST  y 

How  far  thy  honeyed  words  will  carry  deeds ! 
Away,  wild  spirit — cease  thy  vain  pursuit 
Or  I  will  call  on  our  great  Father,  Pan ! 

Gale 

And  Pan  will  laugh — for  that 's  the  way  of 

Pan. 

But  I  will  have  thee,  sweet  enchantress. — Ah ! 

He  almost  catches  her,  but  she  eludes 

him.     Suddenly    seeing    Sylvan,  she 

pauses  long  enough  for  the  Gale  to 

touch  her  draperies. 

Dryad 

{With  a  wild  cry,  flinging  herself  at  Sylvan1  s 

feet) 
Thou  Mortal !    I  appeal  to  thee  for  aid. 
Save  me  from  this  pursuer,  and  by  Pan 
I  '11  bless  th'  entire  remainder  of  thy  days. 
Protect  me  and  1 11  grant  thee  what  thou  wilt ! 

Sylvan  {bewildered) 

Whence  came  this  lovely  apparition? — Nay, 
Maiden,  with  my  last  breath  I  would  protect 
Such  beauty,  but  I  see  nor  man  nor  beast 
Who  would  molest  thee. 


8  THE  FOREST  sc.  I 

Dryad 

'T  is  the  wind,  the  wind! 

Sylvan 

If  't  is  the  storm  which  frights  thee,  have  no 

fear. 
I  '11  wrap  thee  in  my  warm  encircling  cloak, 
And  guide  thee  to  our  humble  cottage  hearth 
Where  thou  may'st  rest  and  eat.     It  is  indeed 
A  wild  night  for  a  maiden  all  alone. 
How  cam'st  thou  here? 

Dryad 

The  wind,  the  cruel  wind! 

Sylvan 

Canst  thou  not  answer? — Well,  we  '11  wait 

awhile 
Till  thou  shalt  gain  some  nourishment  and 

rest. 
Wilt    come?    Nay,    tremble    not, — there  's 
naught  to  fear. 

They  start  off,  the  Dryad  clinging  to 
him. 


sc.  I  THE  FOREST  9 

Gale  (threatening) 

By  the  cleft  hooves  of  Pan !    Thou  hast  trans- 
gressed 
The  laws  of  the  Immortals !    Thou  hast  shown 
Thy  form  to  human  eyes.     Thou  know'st 

thy  fate. 
Win  thou  his  love  before  Midsummer's  Eve, 
Or  die  an  endless  death ;  for  we  who  live, 
Yet  have  no  souls,  are  nothingness  beyond. 
E'en  thus  do  the  Immortals  punish  those 
Who  scorn  their  sacred  laws.     Farewell,  rash 
nymph! 

Exit  the  Gale  in  a  furious  gust  of  wind. 

Dryad 

I  would  not  die — I  cry  thee  mercy. — Ah ! 

She  falls  into  Sylvan1  s  arms,  who  leads 
her  away  along  the  path  through  the 
trees.    Exeunt. 

(Curtain.) 


Scene  ii 

Inside  the  cottage.  Candle-light.  Sylvia  stands 
at  the  open  door  straining  her  eyes  into  the 
night,  a  taper  in  her  hand  and  the  Child 
clinging  to  her  skirts. 

Sylvia  (anxiously) 

The  night  grows  wild,  and  he  is  very  late. 
If  aught  mischance  should  harm  him  I  should 
die. 

The  Child  whimpers. 

There,  chick,  there  's  naught  to  fear, 

The  Father  '11  come  e'er  long  and  toss  thee 

high, 
Or  tell  thee  faery  tales  till  time  for  bed. 
There,  weep  not, — fear  not,  darling.    He  will 

come, 
And  Mother  '11  hold  thee  close  and  listen  too, 
That  we  may  hear  his  first  approaching  steps 
10 


sc.  ii  THE  FOREST  II 

Amid  the  storm .     Hark !    No w  I  seem  to  hear 
The  branches  cracking  as  he  comes  along 
The  woodland  path. — Kind  heaven  to  keep 

him  safe! 
Sylvan,    dear   husband,    haste!    The   broth 

grows  cold, 
And  thine  own  child  is  waiting  for  thy  kiss — 
The  door  opens.    Enter  Sylvan  and  the 
Dryad  veiled. 
Who    is    the    shrouded    stranger?    Whence 

comes  she? 

Sylvan 

Dear  Sylvia,  't  is  a  maiden  whom  I  found 
Alone  and  weeping  in  the  forest  shades, 
Who  craved  protection  from  some  unseen 

power. 
Give  her  some  food  and  let  her  rest  awhile, 
And  show  her  hospitality  for  me. 

Sylvia 

A  maiden? — and  alone  within  the  wood? 
No  wonder  thou  didst  weep  for  very  fear. 
The  shades  of  night  are  deep  and  terrify 


12  THE  FOREST  sc.  n 

With  subtle  wav'ring  shadows  which  suggest 
Those  unseen  spirits  that  would  harm  man- 
kind. 
Let  me  remove  thy  veil,  and  rest,  and  eat. 
Heaven,   what   beauty!    Sylvan,   look  how 
fair! 

She  glances  at  Sylvan  who  stands  spell- 
bound at  sight  of  the  Dryad. 

Dryad 

I  thank  thee,  gracious  Mortal,  though  I  fear 
No  forest  shades  nor  spirits,  but  the  wind, 
From  whom  I  claimed  protection  of  thy  man. 
Is  the  child  thine? 

Sylvia 

The  child ?    Indeed — but  yes. 
Come,  pretty  chick,  take  out  the  naughty 

thumb 
From   thy  sweet  rosebud  mouth,    and    say 

good  e'en 
Unto  the  gentle  lady.     Speak  thy  best. 

The  Child  greets  her  shyly. 


sc.  n  THE  FOREST  13 

Ah,  that  was  sweetly  done. 
He  is  but  five  come  Candlemas  again. 

Dryad 

Come,  man-child,   I  would  whisper  in  thine 

ear. 
Wouldst  like  to  frolic  with  the  merry  winds 
And  chase  the  butterfly  and  thistledown? 
I  '11  give  thee  blossoms  fair,  and  honey  sweet, 
And  speckled  frogs  to  play  with  all  day  long. 
Wilt  have  me  for  thy  friend?    Speak,  little 

fawn. 

The  Child  flings  its  arms  about  the  Dryad. 

Sylvia 

See  how  the  child  takes  to  her — she  is  good 
Or  he  would  cry  and  whimper,  or  escape. 
Come  darling;  't  is  thy  bedtime.     Say  good 

e'en. 

And  kiss  thy  Father.     We  must  haste  to  sleep 

Or  all  the  forest  elves  will  haunt  thy  dreams. 

Exit  Sylvia  and  the  Child.     Soft  lullaby 

from  inner  room.     The  Dryad  stands 

motionless.     Sylvan  comes  forward. 


14  THE  FOREST  sc.  n 

Sylvan 

Art    hungered,    maiden?    Wilt    thou    not 

partake 
Of  that  poor  fare  which  we  may  offer  thee? 

Dryad 

I  thank  thee,  Mortal,  thou  art  fairly  kind. 

She  seats  herself  at  the  board  and  touches 
the  food.  Suddenly  she  raises  her 
eyes  to  Sylvan  who  is  watching  her. 
He  is  held  tranced  by  her  gaze.  A 
long  pause.  ,  .  .  The  lullaby  ceases 
and  Sylvia  enters  briskly  and  hos- 
pitably. 

Sylvia 

The   babe  's    asleep.     Hast    thou   refreshed 
thyself? 

(To   Sylvan) 
How  sweet  it  is  to  know  thee  safe  at  home ! 
Hast  thou  forgotten  nothing,  Sylvan — no? 

He  recovers  himself  with  a   start  and 
kisses  her  absently. 
Now  I  am  happy.     How  I  love  thee,  dear ! 


sc.  ii  THE  FOREST  15 

Dryad  (aside) 

Love?    What  is  love?   'T  is  what  the  threat- 
ening Gale 
Said  I  must  win  from  Sylvan. 
(To  Sylvia) 

What  is  love? 

Sylvia  (blushing) 

Pardon,  fair  maid — I  fear  me  I  forget 
The  usages  of  hospitality ; 
But  it  had  grown  so  late,  the  night  so  dark, 
And  I  was  very  glad  when  he  came  home. 

Dryad 

But  what  is  love?    I  do  not  understand. 

Sylvia 

Not  ^understand?     Why,  /t  is  ';that  :  tender 

thing 
Which  I  do  feel  for  Sylvan.     This  is  love. 

Dryad 

She  cannot  tell  me.    I  must  ask  without. 


16  THE  FOREST  sen 

■ 

Sylvia 

Stranger,  art  not  fatigued?    In  this  small 
room 

Standeth  a  fair  broad  bed  to  give  thee  rest. 

All  ours  is  thine,  and  thou  may'st  gain  to- 
night 

Fresh    strength    against  the  morrow.     Rest 
thee  well. 

Dryad 

May  Pan  bring  peace  upon  thy  hut  and  thee. 

Exit  Dryad  through  inner  door.     Sylvan 

follows  her  with  his  eyes  until  the 

door  closes,  then  stands  entranced  and 

motionless. 

Sylvan 

A  slim  green  vision — cool,  deep,  sunlit  eyes 
All  mystery. — I  wish — they  make  me  see 
The  moss-hung  forest  glades  which  subtly 

hint 
Of  hidden  presences. — I  wish — 

Sylvia,  suddenly  becoming  conscious  of 
his  spellbound  stillness ,  runs  to  his  side 
in  alarm. 


sc.  II  THE  FOREST  17 

Sylvia 

Sylvan,  dear  husband !    What  has  struck  thee 

so? 

Dost  thou  not  know  me?    Can'st  not  hear 

my  words? 

{Shaking  him  by  the  arm.) 

Ah,  Sylvan — how  canst  thou  affright  me  thus? 

Awake!  dear  one,  awake!    Sylvan,  awake! 

Slowly  he  comes  out  of  his  trance,  and  as 

his  eyes  rest  on  Sylvia  he  draws  a  long 

breath  of  relief  and  takes  her  into  his 

arms. 

Sylvan 

Dear  Sylvia,  't  was  as  a  fair  sweet  dream, 

But  nothing  to  the  love  within  thine  eyes. 

Come  darling,  all  is  right  again.     Now  haste 

And  get  thee  to  thy  rest :  thy  heavy  eyes 

Proclaim  the  tender  watching  for  thy  mate. 

Away,  dear — sleep  thou  well. 

Exit  Sylvia. 

My  love  for  her 

Is  true  as  tempered  steel — and  yet,  and  yet — 

Those  gold-green  eyes — 

{Curtain.) 


Scene  hi 

Dawn  in  the  forest.  Before  the  altar  of  Pan; 
a  white  birch  is  reflected  in  the  dim  pool 
at  its  base.    Enter  the  Dryad. 

Dryad 

When  first  the  sky  was  streaked  with  rosy 

light, 

I  slipped  from  out  the  little  mortal  cage 

To  dance  upon  the  outspread  wings  of  dawn. 

Ah,  how  the  winds  did  buffet! — I  forget, 

'T  is  three  days  to  Midsummer:  I  must  win 

This  thing  called  love  before  that  hour — or  die. 

{Caressing  the  birch.) 

Dear  branches,  shelt'ring  bark,  how  sweet  it  is 

To  feel  the  Springtime  leap  in  every  shoot ! 

I  would  not  perish  yet ;  I  fain  would  see 

Another  spring — yet  still  I  know  not  love. 

I  %  ask  the  Wood  if  it  can  tell  me  aught 
18 


sc.  m  THE  FOREST  19 

Of  this  strange  thing.    Great  Oak-tree,  thou 

art  old 
In  winters  and  in  wisdom.     What  is  love? 

Oak 

It  comes  to  mortals  only;  't  is  the  thing 
Which  brings  two  human  beings,  hand  in  hand, 
To  carve  my  trunk  with  letters  intertwined. 
I  know  no  more  of  love. 

Dryad 

'T  is  not  enough. 
Convolvulus !  lost  gleam  of  pale  moonlight, 
Caught  i' the  shadows  by  thedawn'sfirst  beam, 
Canst  tell  me  aught  of  love? 

Convolvulus 

It  is  the  thing, 
Which,  when  a  mortal,  heavy-browed  and  sad, 
In  loitering  through  the  forest  sees  my  bloom, 
Brings  him  to  write  an  ode  on  his  own  death, 
And  sing  of  pale  white  blossoms  o'er  his  grave, 
That  all  the  world  may  read.     Is  this  not  love ? 

Dryad 
Nay,  it  is  more  than  these.    Sweet  crimson 
rose, 


20  THE  FOREST  sc.  in 

Dreaming  upon  thy  thorn-decked  briery  stem, 
Thou  'st  been  a  symbol  to  all  human-kind 
Of  this  same  feeling;  tell  me, — what  is  love? 

Rose 

*T  is  melody;  that  weird,  sweet  harmony 
Which  thrills  and  quivers  in  the  bulbul's 

throat 
Beneath  the  silver  moon.      Tis  sad  and 

strange 
And  wondrous  sweet — half  tears,  and  half 

delight. 

Dryad 

I  do  not  understand.     Thy  words  are  fan- 
But  wake  no  echoes  in  my  slumbering  brain. 
I  know  the  moonlight,  and  the  bulbul's  song, 
Yet  know  not  love.     Ye  zephyrs,  stirring  soft 
The  silent  air,  know  ye  the  thing  called  love? 

Chorus  of  Zephyrs  (a  faint,  soft  breath) 

We  know  it  not — know  not — know  not — 
know  not. 

Dryad 

And  thou,  pale  stately  lily,  know'st  thou  love? 


sc.  in  THE  FOREST  21 

Lily 
Nay,  passionless  I  sway — I  know  it  not. 

Dryad 
Gay  butterflies,  who  dance  the  livelong  day, 
Pause  in  thy  airy  whirls  and  tell  me  true, 
Know  ye  of  love? 

Chorus  of  Butterflies,  {far  and  faint) 
Nay,  we  know  not — know  not — 
Dryad 
Sweet  birdlings,  thrilling  dawn  with  crystal 

sound, 
Sing  me  thy  answer !     Tell  me — what  is  love? 

Chorus  of  Birds 
It  is  the  twitter  of  the  mother  bird, 
Sitting  upon  the  five  brown-speckled  eggs, 
Hid  in  the  little  nest  amid  the  leaves. 
This,  and  the  glory  of  the  coming  dawn 
Which  fires  the  pallid  heavens ! 

Dryad 

What  have  I 
To  do  with  twittering  birdmates  and  with 
nests? 


22  THE  FOREST  sc.  in 

They,  and  the  rising  sun?    The  forest  life 
Is  ignorant  of  love!    What  shall  I  do? 
The  day  draws  near  when  I  must  pay  the  gods 
And  still  I  know  not  love.     What  shall  I  do? 
A   universal  murmur  breathes  through 
the  forest. 
Ask  Pan — ask   Pan — ask    Pan — the   Father 
Pan. 

Dryad 

{Turning  to  the  altar  with  uplifted  hands,) 
Great    Pan,    All-Father    Pan    of    woodland 

things, 
Unriddle  me  my  quest,  and  lend  thine  aid, 
Reveal  to  me  this  thing  which  men  call  love! 

Pan  {a  voice) 

Fair  Dryad,  daughter  of  the  sun-flecked  wood, 
Attend.     The  thing  called  love  comes  with  a 

soul; 
Ye  elemental  beings  know  it  not. 
It  is  a  great,  sweet  feeling  in  the  heart 
Warming  to  one  man  only,  or  one  maid ; 
Yearning  to  do  for  them, — if  need,  to  die. 


sc.  in  THE  FOREST  23 

Willing  to  leave  all  home  and  kindred  ties 
And  follow  this  one  soul  throughout  the  world, 
To  smooth  its  path  and  suffer  all  its  pain. 
On  this  strange  human  thing  is  set  a  seal, 
The  meeting  of  the  lips  they  call  a  kiss. 
If  thou  canst  gain,  soulless,  this  mortal's  love, 
With  his  first  kiss  thou  shalt  receive  a  soul, 
And  learn  to   love  with  force  outreaching 

his. 
For,  when  a  creature  of  the  woodland  things 
Has,  struggling,  gained  a  soul,  that  soul  shall 

be 
More  pure  and  strong  and  brave  than  human- 
kind 
May  ever  reach.     But  thou  must  bear  great 

pain, 
And  keep  his  love  all  thine, — for  with  its  wane 
Comes  death. 

Dryad 

I  thank  thee,  Pan,  and  I  will  gain 
From  Sylvan  this  strange  feeling,  or — I  die. 
Sylvan  slowly  approaches  and  the  Dryad 
conceals  herself  in  her  tree. 


24  THE  FOREST  sc.  hi 

Sylvan 

How  far  I '  ve  wandered  on !  ...  I  '11  ask  of 

Pan 
The  cause  of  this  strange  restlessness  of  heart, 
Which  sets  me  roaming  o'er  the  fields  and  hills, 
Or  lying  hours  long  upon  the  moss, 
My  body  still,  my  spirit  tranced  by  strange 
Soft  stirrings  in  the  draperies  of  the  trees. 
Far-worshipped  Pan,  what  spell  doth  hold  me 

thrall? 
A   pause  .  .  .  silence  save  for  low  el- 
dritch laughter. 
He  answers  not.  .  .  .  Have  I  displeased  the 

god? 

I   will  lie   down  and   rest — I  'm   strangely 
tired.  .  .  . 

How  purpled  is  the  ground  with  violets, 

Like  wine  from  out  the  goblet  of  the  gods. 

Wood-spirits,  let  me  slumber  in  thine  arms. 
He  stretches  out  beneath  the  oak  with 
closed  eyes.  .  .  .  The  Dryad  steps 
forth  and  eyes  him  furtively,  then 
crouches  at  his  head  and  presses  her 
fingers  gently  on  his  eyelids. 


sc.  in  THE  FOREST  25 

Dryad 

Nay,  open  not  thine  eyes,  but  hear  my  voice. 

Sylvan 
What  silver  tones !  Methinks  that  I  do  dream. 

Dryad 

Wouldst  come  with  me  and  rest  deep  i'  the 

wood, 
On  emerald  moss  'mid  cool  green  shadows 

lie; 
With  falling  water  murmuring  to  thine  ear 
And  all  sweet  fragrance  stealing  through  thy 

sense? 

Sylvan 

I  will  not  wake  lest  I  should  break  the  dream. 

Dryad 

I  '11  gain  for  thee  the  thrush's  liquid  note 
To  lull  thee  to  soft  slumber.     Thou  shalt  have 
The  variant  zephyrs  for  thy  slaves,  to  fan 
Thy  forehead  and  obey  thy  slightest  will. 
Wilt  follow  me? 


26  THE  FOREST  sc.  m 

Sylvan 

What  wonder- world  is  this? 
I  dare  not  wake. 

Dryad 

For  thee  I  '11  search  and  find 
All  precious  gems  of  earth.     1 11  clasp  thy 

brows 
With  emerald  and  pearl  and  chrysolite. 
When  thou  wouldst  live,   we  '11  stride  the 

panting  deer, 
Or  mount,  all  swan-like,  in  the  sweeping  arms 
Of  my  dear  friends  the  clouds.     When  thou 

wouldst  eat, 
The  fruit  of  all  the  world  is  at  thy  hand. 
When    thou  wouldst    sleep,    I  '11   ring   thee 

with  white  arms, 
And  smooth  thy  soft  hair — thus. 

She  touches  his  hair. 

Sylvan 

The  fleeting  touch 
Of  moonlight  and  of  dew  .  .  .  my  eyes  are 
closed.  .  .  . 


sc.  in  THE  FOREST  27 

Dryad 

When  thou  wouldst  see  fair  sights  unknown 

to  man, 
My  sisters  and  the  water-nymphs  shall  dance 
In  mazy  circles  to  delight  the  eye. 
Dear  mortal,  look  at  me. 

Sylvan 

I  dare  not  look; 
The  dream  might  waver,  or  be  lost,  and  I 
Should  live  in  yearning  mem'ry  all  my  days. 

Dryad 

Open  thine  eyes,  dear  mortal,  and  thy  dream 
Shall  stay. 

Sylvan 

I  '11  look  or  perish.    Heaven,  what  eyes ! 
All  gold  glints  like  the  sunlight  through  the 

leaves! 
My  dream  is  safe. 

Dryad 

Sylvan,  wilt  follow  me? 


28  THE  FOREST  sc.  hi 

Sylvan 
Aye,  so  will  I. 

Dryad 

Wilt  stride  the  fleecy  clouds? 
Or  ride  the  deer,  or  leap  the  waterfall? 
Or  seek  the  treasure  in  the  mountain  caves? 
Or  float  upon  an  endless  sapphire  sea? 

Sylvan 

I  would  but  gaze  into  those  sunlit  eyes 
Where  lies  the  mystery  of  hidden  things. 

Dryad 

Then  thou  shalt  see  the  glamour  of  the  wood, 
And  watch  the  airy  swirls  of  woodland  dance 
By  spirits  filmy  as  the  night  moth's  wing. 

She    rises    and  invokes  the  wood  and 

water-nymphs  who  enter  silently  as 

she  speaks. 
Dear  sisters  of  the  oak,  and  ash,  and  thorn, 
Aid  me  I  pray  but  to  delight  his  eye 
And  lose  his  'wildered  brain  in  mazy  round. 
Dark  naiad  of  the  silent  mountain  lake, 


sc.  in  THE  FOREST  29 

I  bid  thee  come, — a  sister  asks  thine  aid ! 

White    waterfall,    come    hither!     Lend    the 
dance 

Thine  airy  lightness  and  thy  rainbow  mists. 

And  thou,  O  favored  sprite  of  ancient  Pan, 

Who  guards  his  sacred    fountain,    bring,   I 
pray, 

Thy  silver  tread  to  lead  the  mystic  rite ! 

Low  music:  dance  of  the  nymphs.  They 
are  veiled  and  the  step  is  intricate, 
swaying,  and  very  graceful.  As  they 
form  and  reform  in  misty  dissolving 
figures,  beyond  them  is  caught  the 
vague  outline  of  a  shaggy,  vine-crowned 
form  seated  upon  a  rock  and  playing 
upon  some  rude  woodland  pipes.  As 
the  music  dies  away  the  nymphs  dis- 
appear silently  through  the  trees,  and 
the  figure  of  the  god  also  vanishes. 

Dryad     {bending  over  Sylvan) 

Wilt  love  me? 

Sylvan 

Aye. 


30  THE  FOREST  sc.  in 

Dryad 

Wilt  follow  through  the  wood 
And  find  that  paradise  of  which  I  told? 

Sylvan 

Aye,  so  will  I. 

Dryad 

Dost  love  me? 

Sylvan 

Yea. 
Dryad 

Kiss  me? 
Sylvan 

The  dream  grows  yet  more  dear  .  .  .  to  touch 
those  lips.  .  .  . 
She  bends  down,  her  hair  falling  about 
her,  and  he  kisses  her.  .  .  .  Rising 
slowly,  the  Dryad  turns  to  the  altar. 

Dryad 

Great  Pan,  thy  human  soul  is  full  of  pain ! 


sc.  in  THE  FOREST  31 

My  eyes  are  opened  to  a  changing  world 
Of  right  and  wrong,  of  strangely  piercing  grief ; 
But  also  to  a  tenderness  my  heart 
Imagined  not.     My  Sylvan,  mine,  dear  love! 
She  turns  with  a  mortal  light  shining  in 
her  eyes  to  meet  his  faun-like  smile. 

Sylvan 

I  '11  dance  with  thee  forever  in  the  wood ! 
(Curtain.) 


Scene  iv 

The  same — Midsummer's  Eve.  Throughout 
this  scene  there  is  continual  evidence  that 
the  unseen  powers  of  the  forest  are 
abroad.  Spirits  and  pixies  glide  unob- 
trusively through  the  trees,  and  the  pipes 
of  Pan  rise  and  fall  in  vague  harmonies  in 
the  distance.  Sylvia  enters,  dragging  her- 
self along  as  if  exhausted,  and  sobbing 
heavily.  Three  small,  brown,  soft-footed 
pixies  peer  at  her  furtively,  twitch  her  gar- 
ments, and  attempt  to  trip  her. 

Sylvia 

The  very  forest  bars  my  way .  .  .  .  I  faint.  .  . 

She  falls  prostrate  before  the  altar  and 

the  pixies  rush  back  frightened  among 

the  trees.  .  .  .  Slowly  she  rises  to  her 

32 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  33 

knees  and  stretches  her  arms  toward  the 
altar. 
Great  Pan,  in  pity,  soften  thou  my  pain! 
Thou  know'st  that  I  have  lost  my  husband's 

love, 
The  love  of  Sylvan,  which  I  held  more  dear 
Than  any  earthly  thing.     'T  was  stol'n  away 
Between  the  dawn  and  setting  of  one  sun 
By  a  green  spirit  nurtured  i'  the  wood; 
And  I  am  left,  heart-broken.     Sylvan  springs 
On  eager  foot  through  woodland  sun  and 

shade, 
Pursuing    this     green     spirit-thing,     which 

flits 
In  misty  radiance  ever  just  beyond 
His  outstretched  fingers.     Then,  when  he  is 

spent, 
And  throws  himself  exhausted  on  the  moss, 
When,  as  of  old,  his  thoughts  might  turn  to 

me, 
The  Dryad  bends  above  him,  murmuring 
False  promises  and  whispers  in  his  ear; 
And  straightway  he  forgets  his  humble  cote 
And  Sylvia  weeping  lonely  'neath  its  roof, 


34  THE  FOREST  sc.  iv 

And  springs  away,  light-foot,  to  catch  this 

sprite, 
This  myth  of  woven  moonlight  and  desire. 
I  followed  for  a  day,  footsore  and  faint, 
Calling  aloud  his  name  and  weeping  sore ; 
Hoping  that  he  might  see  my  tears,  perchance 
Relent  and  turn  to  me.     But  nay,  he  still 
Roams  through   the   forest,   careless  of  my 

voice. 
And  so  I  cry  thine  aid  in  my  sore  need. 

Pan 

Fair  Sylvia,  steel  thy  heart ;  his  love  is  gone 
Because  his  soul  is  lost.     'T  was  lost  through 

sin. 
His  life  was  fairly  quiet,  and  the  days 
Seemed  gray  and  dull  beside  the  woodland 

gold 
To  which  the  Dryad  beckoned  in  her  spell. 
He  left  the  narrow  foot-path  which  he  knew 
Led  to  the  hut  and  hearth  of  every  day, 
And  thought  to  cross  the  woodland  by  a  path 
Of  bluebells,    springing  on  from  flower  to 

flower, 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  35 

Perchance  to  find,  too  late,  the  precipice 
Which  barred  his  flowery  road.     Alas,  he  fell : 
For  when  the  Dryad  lured  him  on  this  way, 
He  left  thy  tender  care  and  homely  love 
And  yielded, — and  in  yielding,  lost  his  soul. 
There  is  no  aid. 

Sylvia 

Kind  Heaven !     There  is  no  aid ! 
And  I  must  hug  this  misery  to  my  breast? 
For  each  remembered  touch  of  his,  a  spear 
To  pierce  my  tortured  heart  until  it  break ! 
There  is  no  aid.  .  .  .  Sylvan  is  lost  to  me.  .  .  . 
I  '11  haste  to  die,  and  wait  for  his  sweet  soul 
In  that  fair  Paradise  in  which  we  trust. 

Pan 

There  is  no  Paradise  for  him.     For  he 

Has  lost  his  heritage  of  after-life. 

When  this  green  nymph,  this  creature  of  the 

wood, 
Has  worn  his  earthly  body  quite  away 
With  fierce,  wild  sports  of  wind  and  storm 

and  rain, 


36  THE  FOREST  sc.  iv 

He  will  not  die,  but  slowly  fade  away. 

He  hath  no  spirit  left  for  Hell  or  Heaven. 

His  soul  is  lost. 

Sylvia 

Is  lost?     Then  when  he  dies 
He  may  not  taste  of  immortality? 
He  may  not  see  our  Great  White  Father, 

Christ, 
Enthroned  upon  his  cloud-encircled  height? 
Then  he  must  die  for  all  eternity? 

Pan 
His  soul  is  lost  .  .  .  and  save  some  piteous 

one 
Should  die  this  very  evening  for  his  sake, 
He  may  not  taste  of  immortality. 

Sylvia 
Some  piteous  one.  .  .  .  Ah,  what  would  I  not 

give 
To  prove  the  sureness  of  my  love  for  him ! 

Pan 

If  thou  shouldst  die  this  night  for  Sylvan's 

sake 
Thou  losest,  then,  thine  own  eternity. 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  37 

Sylvia 

To  go  to  endless  night.     Yea,  so  would  I 
For  Sylvan's  sake.     But  Pan,  a  boon  I  crave : 
Grant  that  he  weep  above  my  soulless  tomb, 
And  know  my  sacrifice.     I  would  not  think 
Of  Sylvan  dancing,  elfish,  as  I  die. 

Pan 
His  soul  shall  enter  as  thine  own  departs; 
His  future  life  shall  be  thine  elegy, 
And  he  shall  grieve  forever  for  his  wife — 
If  thou  wouldst  have  it  so. 

Sylvia 

Yea,  so  would  I. 
If  he  will  grieve,  then  gladly  shall  I  take 
The  long  dark  pathway  through  the  gates  of 

Death. 
To  die  for  him  .  .  .  What  more  could  mortal 

ask? 
I  go.  .  .  . 

Exit  Sylvia.  Enter  Sylvan  pursuing 
the  Dryad.  She  flits  between  the 
trees,  then  suddenly  turns  and  rushes 
into  his  arms. 


38  THE  FOREST  sc.  iv 

Dryad 

Sylvan,  dear  mortal,  thou  hast  made 
The  dryad  foreign  to  her  nature.     Thou 
Hast  given  the  woodland  thing  a  throbbing 

pain 
Which  leaps  within  her  breast.     If  I  might  see 
But  faint  reflection  in  thy  mortal  eyes 
Of  this  great  light  which  burns  my  heart  away, 
Then  I  should  find  a  deeper,  truer  joy, 
Far  greater  than  that  careless  gaiety 
Which  I  once  felt  before  I  gained  a  soul, — 
The  lawless  joy  of  nature.     I  have  grown 
To  feel  I  am  all  human.     Dost  love  me? 

Sylvan 

Yea,  verily,  I  fain  would  kiss  thy  lips. 
But  why  waste  this  clear  sunshine  in  such  talk? 
Come,  let  us  to  those  wild  sweet  forest  games 
Which  thou  hast  taught  me.     I  will  run  and 

leap 
And  catch  the  flickering  sunbeam  for  thy 

tread. 
Ah,  what  a  thing  it  is  to  play  and  dance 
And  sing  the  joy  of  nature  all  the  day ! 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  39 

Dryad 

Beloved,  tarry, — I  would  seek  thine  eyes 
For  a  faint  flicker  of  that  love  which  shone 
On  me  in  that  one  moment  when  thou  saw'st 
Deep  to  my  new-found  heart  in  our  first  kiss. 
I  love  thee,  Sylvan. 

Sylvan 
Yea,  I  have  heard  too  oft 
Those  same  quaint  words,  yet  understand  I 

not 
What  thing  it  is  thou  meanest.     Let  us  dance 
Beside  the  brooklet,  or  go  find  the  flowers 
Of  palest  turquoise  growing  on  its  banks. 
Enough  of  this  sad  talk !     Let  us  away ! 

Dryad 
I  find  this  thing  which  mortals  call  a  soul 
A  strange  possession.      The  red  rose  spoke 

true.  .  .  . 
"Half  tears  and  half  delight"  .  .  .  and  more 

than  these, 
A  racking  joy  which  flames  within  the  breast, 
A  tenderness  which  hints  of  angel  wings. 
For  this  one  human  being  I  would  give 


40  THE  FOREST  sc.  iv 

My  new-born  hope  of  immortality 

To  make  his  life  more  bright.     My  heart 
has  changed 

From  that  wild  sprite  which  roamed  the  woods 
and  hills, 

And  lured  mankind  to  madness  or  to  death. 

Why  must  it  be  that  with  this  new-born  love 

I  find  this  new-born  pain? 

With  one  hand  on  the  birch  tree,  she 
leans  over  the  still  pool  .  .  .  the  Pan- 
pipes swell  softly  on  the  breeze.  .  .  . 
Sylvan  has  been  playing  games  with 
the  little  pixies  during  this  speech. 
Now  he  leaps  forward  toward  the 
Dryad,  his  hands  full  of  blossoms 
which  he  offers  on  his  knee. 

Sylvan 

Come,  goddess  of  the  woods,  away  with  me ! 
See,  I  have  brought  thee  offerings  from  thy 

realm : 
This  tender  pale  blue  flower  is  called  by  men 
Forget-me-not  .  .  .  what  strange,  sad  words 

they  are ! 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  41 

I  cannot  understand  .  .  .  and  yet,  I  hear 
A  far  faint  echo  crying  them  again  .  .  . 
Forget-me-not.  .  .  . 

Enter  the  Child  who  runs  to  him  and 
clasps  him  about  the  knees. 

Child 

Oh  Father,  come  with  me! 
The  mother  lies  upon  the  ground  and  moans 
Thy  name,  and  will  not  stir  nor  speak  a  word 
To  all  my  questioning.     I  fear  me!     Come! 

Dryad 

No!  .  .  .  no!  .  .  . 

Sylvan 

What  is  this  creature?     In  my  brain 
Is  born  a  faint  remembrance  of  the  thing. 
I  '11  go. 

Dryad 

No,  no !  .  .  .  ah,  no !  .  .  . 
She  clings  trembling  to  his  arm.    He 
shakes  her  from  him  carelessly. 


42  THE  FOREST  sc.  iv 

Sylvan 

But  yes  .  .  .  away! 
It  may  be  some  new  game  I  know  not  of. 
Come,  quaint  small  creature,  lead  me  to  thy 

home. 
Art  thou  a  pixie? 

He  goes  off  leading  the  Child. 

Dryad 

Pan,  the  very  air 
Is  filled  with  heavy  menacing  of  harm 
Like  distant  thunder.     Is  he  lost  to  me? 
The  child  did  seem  a  harbinger  of  grief. 

A  weird  echo  steals  through  the  forest. 
Lost  .  .  .  lost  .  .  .  lost! 

Enter    Sylvan    staggering    under    the 
weight  of  Sylvia. 

Dryad 

Ah,  Sylvan,  my  beloved.  .  .  . 

He  pays  no  heed  to  her,  but  lays  Sylvia 
down  under  the  oak. 

Sylvan 

This  woman  brings 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  43 

A  faint,  vague  stirring  deep  within  my  heart. 
I   do   not   know  ...  I   cannot   think  .  .  . 
but  .  .  . 

Sylvia  opens  her  eyes  and  stretches  out 
her  arms. 

Sylvia 

Sylvan,  ...  I  die  for  thee.  .  .  .  Bend  down 

thy  head, 
I  would  but  kiss  thee  once  .  .  . 

Dryad 

No,   no!  ...  ah,  no!  ..  . 
Bewildered,  Sylvan  slowly  leans  to  kiss 
Sylvia;  as  he  does  so,  a  change  comes 
over  his  face. 

Sylvan 

My  Sylvia,  my  Sylvia,  at  last ! 

Ah,  darling,  desert-like  have  been  the  days 

Since  last  I  saw  thee!    But  what  ails  thee, 

dear? 
What  dost  thou  here,  so  pale? — thy  hand  is 

cold! 


44  THE  FOREST  sc.  iv 

Ah,   gods!    My  Sylvia!  ...  Is  this  Black 

Death 
Who  bends  above  us  calling  thee  by  name? 
Speak  to  me,  Sylvia!     Speak — my  love — my 

heart ! 

Sylvia  {faintly) 

My  Sylvan,  mine  once  more!    Ah,  hold  me 

close ! 
Spare  me  thy  tears,  for  thou  dost  gain  a  soul. 
Thou  'It  grieve  for  me? 

Sylvan 

The  gods  cannot  permit 
Such  horror !    All  the  world,  which  once  I 

thought 
So  fair,  is  black  and  dead.     How  did  I  e'er 
See  beauty  in  the  forest  whilst  thou  pined? 
All-powerful  gods,  I  cry  thee  .  .  .  give  her 

aid! 
Restore  her  life!  .  .  .  Beloved,  speak  to  me, 
My  broken  heart  dies  with  thee.  .  .  .  Sylvia, 

speak ! 

Dryad  (softly) 

Great  Pan,  I  would  not  have  him  suffer  thus! 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  45 

What  can  I  do  to  ease  his  grief -struck  heart? 
He  looks  at  her  as  I  have  looked  at  him. 
Ah,  would  I  were  the  woman!  ...  I  would 
speak. 

Pan 

All  love  is  sacrifice,  and  Sylvia  dies 
Because  she  loves  him,  giving  him  her  soul 
That  he  may  gain  immortal  life  beyond. 

Dryad 

I  'd  give  my  life — I  'd  give  my  very  soul 
To  see  this  mortal  glad ;  for  with  my  soul 
I  gained  a  purer,  truer,  love  than  hers. 
Pan,  give  to  me  this  mortal's  priceless  boon. 
Let  me  lay  down  the  life  which  I  have  won ! 

Pan 

Not  death  alone  suffices ;  wouldst  thou  give 
Thy  new-born  hope  of  immortality 
To  see  him  happy — with  another  maid? 

Dryad 

If  life  with  this  one  woman  make  him  glad  .  .  . 
If  I  can  clear  those  heart-wrung  eyes  of 
his  .  .  . 


46  THE  FOREST  sc.  iv 

I  will.  .  .  .  Ah,  cruel  soul!  .  .  .  My  love  is 

far 
Above  the  love  of  mortals.     He  shall  live 
And  love  the  woman.  ...  I  will  melt  away 
To  utter  nothingness  for  his  dear  sake. 
Wood-Father,  show  the  way ! 

Pan 

Give  him  the  axe 
And  bid  him  strike  the  white  birch  to  the 
heart. 

Dryad 

And  I  shall  be  .  .  .  but  dust  and  wind  .  .  . 

and  yet, 
My  love  hath  gained  me  death  .  .  .  't  was 

worth  the  price. 

Sylvan 

(Still    bending    over    Sylvia,    heedless   of  the 
Dryad) 

Her  eyes  are  open !     Sylvia,  it  is  I ! 

Sylvia  (faintly) 

Sylvan,  thy  lips  .  .  . 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  47 

Her  eyes  close.  The  Dryad  steals  for- 
ward and  touches  Sylvan  on  the 
shoulder  imploringly. 

Dryad 

.  .  .  If  thou  wouldst  save  her  life  .  .  . 

Sylvan  (shaking  her  off  roughly) 

Away,  false  spirit !     I  would  be  alone 
With  my  beloved. 

Dryad 

There  is  yet  time  to  save  .  .  • 
It  is   the  voice  of   Pan  .  .  .  the  word  is 
true!  .  .  . 

Sylvan 

Then,    trait'rous    spirit,    haste!    I    prithee, 
speak ! 

Dryad 

Take  thou  this  glistening  steel  and  haste  to 

strike 
The  stem  of  yonder  birch  until  it  fall. 
Thy  Sylvia  shall  live.     Farewell,  my  love, 
I  give  thee  back  thy  heritage  of  tears ; 
Farewell,  my  soul ! 


48  THE  FOREST  sc.  IV 

She  kisses  him  gently  on  the  forehead. 
He  seizes  the  axe  and  strikes  the  birch 
until  it  totters.  There  is  a  faint  cry 
and  as  the  tree  falls  the  Dryad  falls 
with  it,  her  draperies  mingling  with 
the  foliage  and  concealing  her. 

Sylvia  sighs  and  sits  up,  bewildered. 

Sylvia 

Sylvan,  methought  I  dreamed 
Of  following  thee  through  bracken,  mud,  and 

thorn, 
And  calling,  all  unanswered  on  thy  name ; 
My  heart  was  torn  with  longing.  .  .  .  Have 

I  slept? 

Sylvan 

Methought  I  felt  a  touch  upon  my  brow 
Of  fragrant  coolness ;  then  I  seemed  to  hear 
A  thin,  clear  music  echoing  through  my  brain 
Like  woodland  piping.  ...  It  must  be  the 

wind. 
Arise,  dear  Sylvia,  see!    The  starry  night 


sc.  iv  THE  FOREST  49 

Hath  lipped  the  upheld  cup  of  rosy  dawn, 
And  all  the  liquid  golden  wine  of  morn 
Is  overturned  upon  a  breathless  world! 
Come,  darling,  we  must  hasten.     The  green 

path 
Which  leadeth  to  our  cottage  is  beset 
With  violets,  and  shot  with  emerald  flame. 
How  beautiful  is  all  the  world  to-day ! 

Sylvia 

Yes,  I  am  strangely  happy.     All  the  earth 
Is  wondrous  fair !    How  clearly  sing  the  birds ! 

Exeunt. 

A  silence  .  .  .  the  pan-pipes  swell  on 
the  breeze  and  die  away.  The  three 
little  pixies  steal  out  to  peer  furtively 
at  the  fallen  Dryad,  but  scurry  back 
timorously  at  a  slight  sound.  .  .  . 
The  cock  crows. 

(Curtain.) 


VB  31933 


M191875 


ir. 


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